contact / help

this had better just be a single chapter in this life.
simply footnotes as i jump boats. into small ponds, i dive
just a temporary post to be fulfilled and then replaced:
parting gifts and a toast.

i wonder what they'll say at the funeral
of course they're gonna spout nice things
but i'm wondering if they'll have stayed up yesterday
scraping the barrel thinking up something good to say
i wonder what they'll say

i'm still taunted by traffic lights and the sepia toned street-lamps at night
they're the clenched-fist hand-shakes that say
"you're destined to tread the water gushing the other way"
it's heading the opposite way

Track Name: Magnolia Molina Ohia

day four: fever like sun
day five.
day six: like none before
… day nine: agony

transmission ceased

how did dead air befall such prolificacy?

Track Name: Pit Philosophy

perched up on that high horse, you must know what is best for us
but at such altitudes you can get clouding of vision; side effects include misjudgement

(a study in) social anthropology: these micro-communities rise and dissipate
see the trace of humanity in this brutal display of energy
that's all it is, anyway. that's all we are: capacitors passing charge around

i swear, these clothes still stink after coming out the wash
the stains seem to remain - the things we can't un-watch
we set these scenes: soft focus shots of an ensemble cast
the script stays the same but the actors drift past

Track Name: Cedar Walton

you try to place chess pieces on your 'promised land'
you occupy & commodify divinity
but if it's so sacred then why do you demand that anyone should own it
and bleed it dry until that holy place is nothing more than a pilgrim's strip-mall?

suddenly it is clear: of all tourists, the best kind are those that'll leave behind worldly lucre
(paid in exchange for renditions of a saviour cast in plastic - whose model behaviour conjures up romantic dreams
of a place where all of this world has no bearing on eternal existence)

when poison is preached from rooftops, let them spit venom
so we learn the taste and recognise the smell

let them spit venom.

or they'll burrow deeper underground - silence is a threatening sound
the rose tint won't share the same hue to those who've seen it fade
how can we learn to see the light if we're always kept in the dark?
words have consequences but decisions are only ours

let them spit

smoke beneath will rise up
we're doomed to a centralia-like fate smouldering below us if we refuse their voices
allow them to bark on and the bite won't be as strong
keep them in our sights and let them spit venom